Sweltering Leather
by Meohy
Summary: Mello's leather pants are too damn tight that he can't get them off. Cue: Matt to the rescue.


**Although this is, regrettably, a day late: Happy Thanksgiving! Did everyone eat unto there heart's content? I know I did :DDD **

**Other than that, the only thing you'd be interested in hearing about my Thanksgiving is when, over dessert, which happened to be cute little cupcakes I made into turkeys, I turned to my brother and, since earlier we were talking about how deep of a villain BB was, said, "If they had Thanksgiving at Wammy's, BB'd kill the turkey by hand." **

**Can't you just see it? **

**BB: "Hey, everyone, don't start dinner without me!" *wearing bloodstained clothes, struts proudly up to the table, the corpse of a turkey clasped in his dirty hand* "I got the main course right here, see?" *is pelted by a rain of bread rolls from the other orphans* **

**A chorus of "Eeewww, B, there's a Wal-Mart down the street! Why can't you shop there for once?" is heard.**

**A: *from across the table, shoots the deranged teen a you-better-not-have-tracked-blood-into-our-room-or-the-turkey-isn't-going-to-be-the-only-raw-meat-we're-eating look* **

**BB: *returns A's glare with a dude-I-unscrew-light-bulbs-to-clean-the sockets-out-what-do-you-think? smirk* "Like you should complain; this was free!" **

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"MAIL!"

The gamer known as Matt cringed at the usage of his true name. Mello only used it when he was pissed or adamant. He used it when he was pissed because Matt hated it, like when the redhead had found out Mello's real name and pronounced it wrong mockingly. This, of course, led Mello to retaliate with countless 'You've got Mail' jokes, which Matt suffered for months. Oh, sweet vengeance.

But Mello also voiced Matt's true name when he was trying to get a serious point across, like when they debated politics, physiology, and religion. Or when Matt just wasn't listening as Mello talked to him about politics, physiology, and religion. Either way.

This usage of his name sounded like a little bit of both. And, though he could be mistaken, it also contained a hint of desperation. Yep, Matt was in for it. Might as well start digging his grave. Shit, he hadn't put that he wanted to be buried with his games in his will. Not that he'd written a will anyway. He was too lazy, you see.

"Mail Jeevas, can you fucking hear me?"

_Damn, there goes my peaceful afternoon, _Matt thought remorsefully, punching more buttons on his controller despite the blonde's call for his attention.

"_MAIL!" _

"_What!_" Matt snapped. He leaned forward in anticipation as he played _Call of Duty _and monitored the second Kira, ignoring Mello on purpose. Just to be spiteful.

"I'm in a bit of an awkward situation," came his roommate's voice from his own bedroom. "COME HERE NOW." Mello called. Then added as a quick, essential afterthought, "But don't come in!"

Matt sighed and got of the couch, thumbing the pause button as he stood. He sauntered grudgingly to Mello's closed door. Crossing one leg over the other and leaning a shoulder against the wall, he casually drawled, "You called?"

"Uh…you were right." Mello began.

Matt quickly cut in, so rare the opportunity of _Mello admitting he was right _presented itself. "In most cases I am, though what was it this time?"

"Uhhh, how do I put this?" Mello's muffled voice struggled to sound collected, but Matt could detect that his calm facade was laced with panic. "You see…well, uhhhh…"

"Yeah? Spit it out, Mels." The urge to do a happy dance and incessantly exclaim 'HAHA I TOLD YOU SO' vanished, and the gamer quickly felt concerned. This was frighteningly uncharacteristic of his best friend, Matt was beginning to realize. Something was seriously wrong.

"They're stuck! They're _stuck_ and I…I can't…"

"_Mello._"

"Dammit, Matt! I CAN'T GET MY PANTS OFF."

Yes, something was seriously wrong.

Matt froze, his veins turning to ice. The blunt exclamation caught him off guard, and he stepped back, reeling as if he'd swallowed something down and it'd gone to his windpipe instead. He coughed uncomfortably because he knew where this was leading. A few breathless beats passed just staring at the door, Matt's decision on what to do vacillating.

Finally resolving to one solution, he asked, "Do you need help?"

His nonchalant question hid his mutual uneasiness.

"You know I wouldn't ask, but – "

"Yeah, I know." Matt sighed, understanding how this was a blow to Mello's pride. The fact that he was actually asking—well, demanding, really—was kind of astonishing. His fist closed around the doorknob. "I'm coming in."

At the sight of Mello's innocent expression and unfastened pants, Matt felt his face grow hot. He looked away, chuckling nervously. In this orange-tinted peripheral vision, he caught glimpse of the blonde glaring flaming daggers at him. "This is NOT funny!"

Right. It was really awkward. All the more reason to get it over with. But the gamer couldn't help stalling a little bit, dread and the general overwhelming feeling to just leave and pretend this wasn't happening began to build up inside. "How'd it happen?" He asked smoothly, emerald eyes darting everywhere but the distressed blonde.

Mello sighed, not looking directly at his friend either, kicking the floor a little with his toe. "Remember when you told me that I shouldn't wear leather outside today? Obviously I didn't listen, and it was so damn hot that I sweated buckets and with the water (or some scientific shit like that), they shrunk…and I'm losing circulation so I need some help, okay?" The words came out rushed, so it took Matt a few moments to reassemble them to make sense.

Finally, Matt met Mello's gaze and moved towards him. With his cheeks a flushed bright crimson, Matt awkwardly reached out to him. The sooner they got through this, the sooner he could return to his game. Ahh, his videogame. Exploring bullets. Tons of blood. Screams of painful terror. Death. Destruction. War. Fuckin' awesome souped-up artillery. Yeah, back were things were sane. Matt shook his head, his red hair instantly becoming more tousled than it already was, clearing his mind of the thoughts that flooded in. "Okay, so…how are we doing to do this?"

"Uh, do you want to hold the waistband of my boxers as I pull, or the other way around?"

Matt blinked and took a step back. "Okay, Mello, I don't think I can do this."

Now Mello was blushing furiously. "Christ, Matt! Act mature for, like, a second."

"Fine."

"Let's just get this over with."

"Yeah."

"…"

"Okay…you hold, and I'll…ah, pull then…"

"All right."

Matt stepped closer to Mello again. Taking a deep breath, he extended his arms, but Mello caught one of his wrists before he could touch his thigh. "This doesn't get repeated to anyone, at anytime EVER. Not even a _thought_ after it's done."

Matt nodded enthusiastically. "Agreed." Closing his eyes, he tugged the fabric away from Mello's hips and thrust downwards.

"OW, _SHIT!_"

"Shhh! Hold still," Matt yanked again.

"OW OW OW OWWWWWWWWWW!"

"STOP MOVING."

"Come on! I'm dying here!"

"You think this isn't difficult for me too?"

The blonde writhed in pain. "PULL HARDER, DAMMIT!"

"Oh my God, Mel, shut the fuck up…"

"_Maaaaattttt_," he whined. "Hurry! It's _huuuurrrrttttsssss_."

"WOULD YOU CALM DOWN, I'M TRYING!"

"Uggggghhhhhhhh!"

Matt grunted, now covered in sweat, and let go. Somehow this task had taken up nearly an hour. And in that time, it hadn't gotten any easier. Or more comfortable. He swayed backwards and again couldn't meet Mello's cerulean gaze. "I'm guessing you'd be opposed to the idea of cutting the pants off of you, right?"

Mello's eyes got wide. "No! These are my favorite pants! No one harms my leather."

"But—"

"_No one harms my leather_!" He shouted. Then added, "Bitch." Like it was necessary.

Matt blinked, shrinking back a little.

Mello snickered, pushing his bangs out of his eyes. "Besides, I don't trust you with a knife."

"I'd be really careful." Emerald eyes rolled. "And how can you not trust me? How many times did you threaten to stab Near with a knife, and how many times did you actually come close? Face it, Mels, you're the one to be feared with a knife."

"Just shut up and take my fucking pants off already."

Somehow their usual mindless banter made the situation less tense, and both relaxed a little. Matt cracked a small grin. "You sick bastard, I bet you're enjoying this."

Mello smirked. "I wasn't complaining."

Although both knew the other was only teasing, they shouldn't be joking around. The accompanying silence was awkward again. Mello shifted his weight and grimaced, the leather still agonizingly tight. Immediately Matt was reminded of the pain his friend was in. "Okay, seriously, maybe we should try this sitting down or something."

"Whatever." Mello stiffly lowered himself to the floor, wincing as the constricting leather prevented him bending his knees.

Matt looked at Mello's position and shook his head. "That's not going to work…I think I know what will, though…"

Mello frowned as he understood, that expression followed by a pink blush creeping to his cheeks. "Yeah, me too. Come on. Let's just get this over with."

Heart thudding, Matt climbed onto Mello as he lay down. Mello gripped his pants, ready to pull, and Matt, straddling him, kept his boxers in place.

"Okay, ready?"

Cerulean eyes rolled. "Just do it."

Mello started his desperate tugging, and Matt, shutting his eyes tight, kept him from thrashing around too much. Legs flailing, Mello kept up persistent and forceful pushing. Soon, he had his pants hugging his thighs, so Matt moved off Mello and crawled down to his feet as he sat up. "Almost done."

"Hallelujah."

Now, Matt pulled at the cuffs of the leather pants while Mello pushed at the fabric still gathered around his thighs. With the sound of the sudden release of suppressed skin and air, the leather pants went flying across the room. Mello's legs were free. Said blonde shrank against the cool hardwood floor, breathing heavily.

The feeling of accomplishment had never been so hard earned for Matt, and it felt great. But he jumped up quickly to leave on a very awkward note, face stained with a deep red blush. When he passed through the door, Mello hastily blurted, "Um, thanks…"

Matt, in return, mumbled a curt, "Sure. Uh-huh. Yeah…"

The redhead staggered out of Mello's room, fearing things wouldn't be the same between them. Throughout the whole situation, though, one question had puzzled Matt: why the hell did Mello wear such goddamn tight leather pants anyway? As he was crouched over his friend, yanking them off, he'd seriously tried to figure it out. I mean, what else was there to think about?

Wait…don't answer that. That's a question that shouldn't be answered.

Matt knew things had changed during the years they'd been apart, and most things he still hadn't figured out why. So, why tight leather? Was it a requirement of his mafia? Wait, there wasn't a mafia anymore…

Maybe it wasn't that hard of a concept to grasp. Maybe Mello just wore leather because he felt like it, or just thought it was cool. Lots of Matt's virtual, guns-blazing heroes suited up in some leather. Maybe Matt had to respect the leather, and not question it. It was Mello's thing, and being the best friend of said leather-wearing blond, he shouldn't ask, just roll with it.

Hearing the door shut behind him, he perched on the couch again, and resumed his game, blocking all the events that occurred like it was save-file for a really hard boss level that was never to be re-loaded. _Next time,_ Matt vowed to himself,_ just say no. _

**A/N – Yes, if you were wondering, this has an alternate ending. Couldn't help it ;) **


End file.
